The Lord of Spring

Outside, the first rays of the new year's morning sun were fading softly over the mountaintops, mist still lingering on the leaves. The spring breeze carried the fragrance of yellow chrysanthemums and the gentle scent of incense drifting from the Buddha's altar. Inside the main hall of Phat Quang Thanh Temple, hundreds of Buddhist practitioners sat with palms joined, listening attentively, their eyes turned toward the dharma seat. Master Thich Chan Quang began to speak slowly, his warm, deep voice resonating through the quiet space:

"Tet is the day when heaven and earth are reborn, a day of joy and hope. But more importantly, it is a day that reminds us of love and loyalty, of the warmth of family. And if someone spends their entire life simply bringing love and joy to others... then that person is truly the Lord of Spring."

A Buddhist practitioner seated in the front row lowered his head gently, his eyes brimming with tears. In his heart, those words were like a torch illuminating the long nights of a life he had once lived only for himself, for money.

A Hidden Corner Behind the Lights

His name was Minh, in his early thirties, a businessman in the city. Three years earlier, when his father passed away, Minh returned home for the funeral and then quickly threw himself back into the whirlwind of work. He believed that earning a great deal of money was the best way to show filial devotion, to give his family a comfortable life. But gradually he grew distant from his wife and daughter. What was called "family" became nothing more than an empty house, hurried meals that never had all their members present.

Last year, during Tet, he was still busy with end-of-year contracts. His wife called, her voice weary:

"Honey, our daughter has a very high fever. It's the twenty-eighth of Tet already. Can you come home?"

Minh looked at his watch, then at the stack of documents on his desk. He answered, his voice dry:

"Take her to the hospital. I'm tied up in meetings; I probably won't be back until the morning of the thirtieth."

On the other end of the line, his wife fell silent. Just one second of silence, yet Minh felt an entire sky of disappointment. He hung up, feeling hollow inside, but then threw himself back into work to fill the emptiness.

The Struggle Within

That Tet, Minh arrived home in the afternoon of the thirtieth. His daughter had recovered, but she looked at him like a stranger, wary and distant. His wife only nodded and turned back to the kitchen. The New Year's Eve dinner was cold and joyless. When firecrackers burst outside and the cheerful laughter of neighbors drifted in, Minh sat alone in the living room, loneliness crashing over him like wild waves. He suddenly realized he had lost something precious, yet he did not know how to win it back.

He remembered his mother's words from childhood: "My child, Tet is the day for family reunion, the day for giving each other joy. Never let money blind your eyes." Back then, he had understood it only simply. Now, living the very same life himself, he deeply felt the pain of absence.

The Turning Point — A Teaching on New Year's Eve

This year, by chance, Minh came to Phat Quang Thanh Temple to attend a dharma talk on New Year's Eve. The Master's voice rose, slow and profound:

"Heaven and earth say only a few things to us: snow melting, green shoots rising, flowers budding, sunlight turning pink. Yet from ancient times until now, human beings have taken up the words of heaven and earth to speak to one another countless things of love and goodness. We Vietnamese, when we are joyful, when we are hopeful, weave affection into everything. This is the depth of the Vietnamese soul."

Minh started. He suddenly remembered his father, a rough-mannered man who always reserved the days of Tet for the whole family to gather, for telling his children and grandchildren stories of the old days, for teaching them the way of being human. He remembered his mother, who always prepared the ancestral altar with such care, to "welcome the ancestors home for Tet," even though they had long passed away.

The Master continued, his voice deeper:

"There are people who no longer have Tet. Why? Because they have rejoiced in the wrong way, creating reckless pleasures merely to indulge themselves. But whoever lives their whole life only to give joy, to give love to everyone... that person is truly the Lord of Spring."

Those words ran through Minh like an electric current. He suddenly understood: true joy does not come from money, from indulgence, but from love, from giving each other precious moments. He looked over at his wife and daughter, sitting beside him, also listening. His daughter's eyes glistened with the temple lights, looking so innocent.

Action and Resolution

After the dharma talk, on the way home, Minh took his wife's hand and said gently:

"I'm sorry. All these years, I have lived the wrong way. From now on, I will change. This Tet, and all the days to come, I will give to my family."

His wife looked at him, surprise flashing in her eyes before softening, and she nodded gently. His daughter happily tugged at his hand, chattering about the temple. That night, Minh's whole family stayed up late, gathered together, eating banh chung, telling stories of the old days, and singing Tet songs together. His daughter's clear laughter rang out — the most beautiful sound Minh had ever heard.

As the months and years passed, Minh truly changed. He organized his work more sensibly and devoted more time to his family. He began to understand: true joy is seeing your loved ones happy, seeing your wife and daughter smile each day. He also gradually opened his heart to those around him, always ready to help, always offering sincere words.

And every spring, sitting beside his family in the warm atmosphere of home, Minh would remember the Master's teaching. He understood: whoever lives fully with love, whoever always brings joy to others... that person is the Lord of Spring. The Lord of Spring needs no wings, no miracles. Only a heart that knows how to love, and action each day.

The Meaning of the Story

Through this story, the lesson conveyed by Master Thich Chan Quang is this: Tet is not merely a day of rest and celebration, but a day that reminds us of love and loyalty, of the warmth of family, and of our capacity to bring joy to others. Above all, if someone spends their entire life simply loving, bringing joy to everyone around them through every glance, every word, and every action, then that person is truly the "Lord of Spring" — a symbol of rebirth and everlasting love. This is a lesson about living fully, about caring for and cherishing those beside us, not only during Tet but throughout our whole lives.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Master Thich Chan Quang.